


Black Magic Woman

by pumpkinpeasy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Porn, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dungeon Sex, Emotionally Repressed, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fix-It of Sorts, Gratuitous Smut, I'm Sorry, Imprisonment, Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Shameless Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, i'm not really sorry, kind of slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpeasy/pseuds/pumpkinpeasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got a black magic woman<br/>Got me so blind I can't see<br/>That she's a black magic woman<br/>She's tryin' to make a devil out of me.</p><p>Wherein Sam completely ravishes Rowena, after everyone's gone, and they have a good time together, resolving both emotional and sexual tensions of late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Magic Woman

Rowena was watching him.  
  
She would snatch glances up at the giant, from her books and grimoires, laid out purposefully, eclectically, across the table. Her pages marked, notes tagging, translations in the process of being useful… Iron cuffs heavy and locking around her wrists. She heard Jolly Green shifting for the umpteenth time, as she turned another page. The chains of her cuffs hung down, into her lap, as she gingerly flipped through the pages, scanning for the next piece of spellwork that she needed. However, her process may have been slightly impeded by the fact that Sam was staring at her.  
  
He could pretend all he liked, that he didn’t like her, at least a bit. She was older, sure, and a bit motherly, but nonetheless… The way she wore her makeup, always on peak and dashing, the way her silky crimson locks crowned her head and flooded down her back, in scarlet, fluid tumbles. Her snark. Rowena’s endless ability to backsass him, and put him in his place. Even the way she wore her dress… Sam shifted again, to hide the growing hardness between his thighs.  
  
“Oh-- Something the matter, Samuel?” she huffed, irritated, eyes sliding over to Sam’s impressive, large form.  
  
“Yeah. You’re taking a while.” he answered, making that snarky face again.  
  
“Cynicism is an ugly colour on you, Sammy.” she crooned, turning back to her works. “Haste makes waste, so I rarely hurry. But if a demon were about to dart up my dress, I'd run.”  
  
“Funny. Last I checked, a demon was literally, about to attack you.” he countered, shifting again, slightly this time. Rowena watched him for a moment, glancing up at the pretty, long hair, then down to his face, before snickering.  
  
“Well, fine, then. If you don’t want my help, I’d be glad to take it someplace else.”  
  
“Looks to me…” Sam rose from his chair, “...Like you really can’t.”  
  
He walked over to her, crossing the length of the room in a few long strides, the witch observing the way his legs moved and worked. She quirked her head at him, as he leant over her from behind, and examined what she was doing. Her hands rested on the edge of the table, fingernails tapping impatiently against the wood, as she felt Sam’s breath hot on her collar. Long, deep sighs trailing down her tender skin, her whipcord-muscled neck. She’d have sworn that she felt his nose tracing the thick, scarlet locks she boasted, and wore so beautifully.

“So… progress.” he breathed, a delightful shiver trickling down her spine like dripping honey. “That’s- _ahem._ That’s good. Good… work.”  
  
Still, she knew he was there, heard and felt his enticing breath, his face so close to the curls that he wanted to touch, graze with his fingers, nuzzle into. She pretended as though he was invisible. Insignificant, and not entirely looming over her for the same reason that she had been betrayed. The same reason that she’d been outraged and screamed at him, when he’d lied and used her, and put her in these cuffs. She pretended that, though a sweetheart he may be, he didn’t exist.  
  
“I take pride, in my good works.” Rowena remarked.  
  
“...And your bad ones?” Sammy breathed again, hot on her ear, little whispers of his breath tickling the nape of her neck.  
  
His hand suddenly moved from the back of the chair, and was gently placed on her back, resting just above her spine. His large hand laid atop a great deal of her shoulder-span, warm and heavy, get tender in its nature. For a moment, she didn’t care that he might rumple the coiffured ruby tendrils that flowed down her back.  
  
“Well, I try to improve my deficit.” she purred, turning her head just slightly in Sam’s direction. “I try.”  
  
Sam hummed softly, and, when she didn’t object, his hand slid lower to rest on Rowena’s waist, just beneath her bustline.  
  
“Copping a feel, are we?” she snickered, flashing that smile. Then, it was gone. Replaced with a quiet feeling of sorrow, as she felt him almost embracing her from behind. “Sam… I only ask for my hands to be freed. I wouldn’t hurt you, or your friend. I’m good on my word.”  
  
Sam rested his chin on her shoulder, letting Rowena feel the warmth and weight of his head, his neck and shoulders so close to her. His fingers were petting in small circular motions, just beneath her breast, as his eyes followed the iron shackles on the witch. His expression was brooding; as always, Rowena thought. She watched him contemplate for a moment.  
  
“I can’t.” he said finally, and her heart sank. “Not with what a danger you could be… I can’t.”  
  
“Samuel?” she asked, as she felt him shift to move away, but he quickly replaced himself there at hearing her word. “I… You know, I do have feelings. I thought that… Nevermind.”  
  
Rowena shifted out of his gentle embrace, and moved forward on her chair, to get back to work. Her pages and notes were still there, and the translations, but something was different. Sam was still looming there, like an impending hammer waiting to swing down upon her, and… She lightly grazed the pages with her fingertips, and soon felt Sammy’s hand tracing her shoulderblade. His lengthy, strong fingers just touching, caressing compassionately. She craned her neck to look at him, but he spared her the trouble by getting on his knees beside her chair, and never breaking the gaze that he held. His eyes held such despairing yearning, hopefulness, that she hadn’t yet seen in him. Her own eyes widened, as those hazel gemstones softly glided over her face, just letting it soak into his memory. His hands fell the the much-smaller ones in her lap, and she suddenly felt almost vulnerable. Rowena’s petite fingers gently curled around his palms, Sam holding them tenderheartedly in his own. His head dipped down for a moment, and she felt a warm kiss being pressed to her fingers. A small, genuine flutter tickled her heart, as she felt his soft lips lightly press more kisses to her fingers, her hands.  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“Rowena, please…” he whispered against the delicate hands in his own. “I can’t… I won’t hurt you.”  
  
“Is our situation not dismal? Hell is so discombobulated that mice and flies have turned belligerent and enlisted in Crowley's army! We need to punish him, and their conversion, Sammy.” she said softly, voice merely more than an undertone as she virtually plead with him. “We don’t have… We don’t have the expedients. We need to form a stratagem, in order to gain power.”  
  
“So, you’re telling me that we don’t have time?” he murmured, lips still chastely flush to her hands. His voice was so young and innocent… Her heart thrummed excitedly against the precious ivories of her delicate breastbone, as she heard him sigh into her lap.  
  
“Sam…” she repeated, woebegone.  
  
A loud, piercing creak of metal broke their conversing. Footsteps, then, an abrupt halt.  
  
“Uhm-- Am I interrupting something?” came Castiel’s voice.  
  
“What?”  
  
“No.” Sam said, feigning an intent scrabbling behind the table. “Nothing, I’m just-- dropped a note.”  
  
“Uh, alright.” Cas said, evidently believing that he’d just walked in on something. Something he’d rather not delve into. “Well. I’ll just… Okay.”  
  
Rowena watched as he quickly strode past them, into the other room, and left them to their works. Sam looked up, his face becoming steadily more level with Rowena’s and then passing her, as he stood up slowly. He glanced around, seeing that Castiel was now in the back room. The hunter turned back to her, a benevolent warmth sinking into both her chest and into Sam’s features. Then, she remembered that he’d put her here, in this demeaning position in the first place. And she saw the old Sam, creeping back into play. The Sam that couldn’t come to terms.  
  
“Right… I-- uhm… I’m sorry.” he stammered softly, “I’ll let you get back to work.”  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Days passed by, dragging slowly, tediously. Rowena’s mostly uneventful, mind-numbing projects were getting to her. She was tired, strained and becoming worn-through, as she toiled lifelessly at the damned pages that she’d been brought. Her brain was thrumming with anticipation for the longest time, and it had only been pulled under the weight of frustration and unsuccess.  
  
She was in the damn dungeon, as always, lately. Her books and grimoires set up in their usual fashion, with only minor reworkings as she made new discoveries. Rowena sighed plaintively, a spiteful breath sliding past gritted teeth. She’d looked over the same things a thousand, or two thousand times, and she couldn’t for the life and freedom of her, figure it out. She was just about to chuck something, when the same loud, familiar creaking of the metal door rung in her ears. She leant over, craning her neck, to see who it may be.

“Rowena?”  
  
She smiled, her heart set aflutter by mere speculation. Of course it was him.  
  
Sam had been back at least once every day, for the past week and a half, since their first mishap. She saw his stocky, gigantic form lurking around the corner, casting a long, dark shadow over the dirty stone. He finally crept around and made his way over to her, glancing about the room to see if she was alone. She brought herself to her feet, as he approached, and looked up at him eagerly, flashing a smile.  
  
“How’s it going?” he asked, without putting the bag he held on the table.  
  
“Slow and tedious, Samuel.” she mewled poignantly, looking down at all of her miscellaneously juxtaposed projects and materials. “Thought you would have known, by now.”  
  
He gave a sigh, visibly clenching and unclenching his jaw, before placing the bag on the table near her works.  
  
“Hey, uhm… I brought you something.” he said uneasily.  
  
Rowena looked at him skeptically, then pulled it open, peering inside. Maybe it was his kind heart, or his desire to get a small reward for his troubles, but she was in the very least, grateful. Inside, she found that he’d packed some of her tea, her indigo velveteen cloak, and several of her choice adornments to life. Even in this blasted, disgusting dungeon, she might have a little of what she used to.  
  
“Thank you, Sam.” she whispered.  
  
“Not a problem.” he murmured, blushing a bit. He glanced around, at her things again, repetitively raking his eyes over things he’d seen over and over. “Are you… Have you been doing okay?”  
  
Rowena nodded. Truth was, she had been doing terribly. Her wrists were rubbed raw by the iron shackles around them. Being chained  up and deprived of her own power, for the meagre gain of two hunters and a wayward angel. She was, in fact, doing horribly. Honesty was typically the best policy, although perhaps not in this case. Sam looked about at the dungeon, until she couldn’t take his clueless insolence. Rowena reached out, the shackles jangling a bit, as she coupled their hands and laced smaller, thinner fingers between larger, longer ones. Sam was blushing pink, as she held his hand in her hand, and locked eyes with the Winchester.  
  
“Sam…” she murmured, for what seemed like the hundredth time, always in futility. “Sammy, please don’t.”  
  
He narrowed his brow at her. “Don’t what?”  
  
“Don’t leave me again, like you did the last time.” she whispered, voice a mere breath, as her eyes pleaded with Sam’s. Her warm touch on his hand, fingers curling invitingly into his palm, just asking a bit more of him. “Don’t leave, and go off, do what-have-ye and come back to yell at me. I’m working on it, and I’m working on it, and only-”  
  
Rowena was suddenly silenced with a kiss.  
  
Sam had bent down to her level, his hands flying to her shoulders, holding her gently, cupping the shape of them. Sam was just as taken-aback as Rowena was, by the looks of it, and yet he kept kissing. His hot, needy lips against hers, tenderheartedly kissing, smooching, just sweet-tempered kitten-licks at her lips, leaving the witch, once and for all, silenced.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Rowena was taken.  
  
She was shocked, completely bewildered by the sudden arms around her, the hands feeling and traipsing down her back, then coming back up to pet her hair, and curl into the scarlet locks. Sam’s lips were gentle and soft on hers, almost like a baby’s. His warmth-seeking hands sought out her back, her front, curling intently around her waist, even as he lovingly took her mouth. She was so small-- so, so small, next to Samuel, that it was almost intimidating. But his kind, good-natured tenderness and his overall appeal to doing niceties, evidently showed her that he was up to no harm.  
  
“God...” he mewled over her lips.  
  
“Refer to me by _name,_ Samuel.”  
  
“Hush.” he retorted, and adoringly trailed a path of kisses up her cheek, to her temple, then nuzzling at the top of her pretty head.  
  
He’d met plenty of women in his time, but none so breathtakingly gorgeous and slotting with him as if they were made for eachother. Rowena draped her arms around his neck, or what she could reach, and pulled him down to deepen the kiss. His tongue went gliding into her mouth, licking and taming what he wished to be his, gently smooching and laving over her lips, teeth, anything he could find. Hands wandered lower, seeking what the infernal, animalistic nature was seeking. Sam’s found the witch’s backside, cupping the soft swell of her buttocks through her dress. And Rowena’s found something perhaps more interesting.  
  
Sam’s breath stuttered, as did his kiss, when Rowena took to lightly squeezing his growing bulge. Her small hand dove between his thighs, holding the weight of his large, hot hardness, gently tightening her grip on the substantial phallic outline. She clasped her fingers around it, making him sigh heatedly into her hair. He slightly rolled his hips forward, into her palm, holding her head to his chest with one large hand.   
  
“Fuck… Jesus, Rowena...” he cursed. Rowena was contentedly massaging his dick through its denim confines, rubbing and squeezing in all the right places. Then, begrudgingly, she slowly drew away.  
  
He looked down, a dull ache settling into his cock. Rowena made sure that he saw the feigned, anguished look that she wore, and that he bit his lip and felt bad over it. She hummed once, and slowly began to turn away, when Sam suddenly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.  
  
“Samuel!” she spat angrily, but she quickly realised what he was up to. He sat her on the table, and grabbed the key from his pocket.  
  
“One time.” he said unsteadily, shaking the key in front of her. “Iron doors, iron bars on the windows. One time, I let you out of these.”  
  
“Yes.” she agreed, nodding quickly.  
  
She held out her wrists, and with fumbling fingers, Sam undid the iron shackles. They clattered and tumbled to the floor in a noisy metallic clash, but it was nothing altogether, because in the next moment Sam had shoved the key away and had Rowena back into his arms. He was returning to claim her mouth, the hot, wet tongue dipping between her lips, as he was undoing the ribbons on the back of her dress. The witch yanked at his jacket, the both of them undoing buttons, divesting of shirts, throwing them to careless piles on the floor. This woman, this centuries-old witch, had him under a senseless, mindboggling spell. When Sam was out of his jacket and shirts, he took to pulling her dress up around her neck, up over her head, and casting it aside as well.  
  
“Come on, Samuel, we’re nearly there.” she hurried him along, laying back, spread-eagled on the table.  
  
He stood between the wide vee of her legs, hands flying to her hips, mouth quickly pressed to her stomach, pressing kisses there and nuzzling. Sam’s needy, wanton sighs trickled over her tummy, his hands shaping her hips, even while stroking low on her belly. Sam made an indistinct moaning sound, his dick absolutely throbbing as it was pinned painfully to his hip inside his jeans. Rowena couldn’t help but sigh, long and deep, as he was nosing intently at the patch of coarse, scarlet hairs that curled like the ones on her head. Without a second more, he dove in there, his tongue pushing into her pussy and laving hungrily up the soft, pink inside. The woman’s sighs grew heavier, darker, as he delved deeper and tenderly let his tongue fuck over her.  
  
“Sam… Sammy.” she moaned, knotting her fingers in his pretty hair, pushing his head further between her slender, milky thighs. Looking down, she saw his well-muscled back and shoulders, flexing, muscles rippling and clenching smoothly as he slowly ate her out.  
  
His tongue stayed pliant and soft against her most sensitive place, and two fingers found their way to her entrance. She threw her head back in a moan, eyes scrunched shut, legs spread wide for Sammy. She reached up with a blind hand, squeezing and cupping her breast, pinching the pert nipple between her fingers. She groaned quietly, as he pushed his fingers inside, slowly making a sexy, come-hither motion in her, as he padded his way deeper. His dick was responding to everything by spurting blobs of precum into his briefs, twitching, the blood-fattened organ tensing and so fucking hard Sam felt like he was going to explode. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, why he was doing it, but Rowena was beyond ready for him.  
  
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he relinquished her pussy, and stood back up before her, his lips pink and swollen, tongue feeling huge in his mouth as he licked his lips. He flipped his hair out of his face, and unbuckled his jeans, the jangling of his belt buckle a warm welcome to Rowena’s ears. Sam was jittering and shaking with anticipation, the witch still running her hands over herself, trying to calm the quivering in her chest.  
  
“Sammy… Sam, please.” she was purring.  
  
Sam had himself out in two seconds flat, pulling Rowena’s body flush to his own. He frantically ran his hands up and down her chest, squeezing, rubbing, then taking himself in hand, and repeating the motion. God, he was so fucking full, it hurt. Rowena looked down to see him slicking his cock with what had to be his own saliva, before he grasped her hips firmly, and slowly pushed in. She moaned soft litanies of ‘Sam’, ‘Sammy’, just puling his name quietly as he filled her with himself. His dick was pushing open her inner walls, forcing them to make room for him, giving her a sense of fullness and absolute domination that Rowena had never felt before.  
  
Sam cursed under his breath, muttering about her tightness, her beautiful body. She was all quivering milky skin and stunning scarlet curls, beneath him and around him. Rowena moaned louder, as he started with slow, deep pulses in and out, giving her an arresting massage inside her tight, wet heat. She stayed spread on the table, for Sammy to let his hands wander, let them cup and squeeze, to shape her body, and stroke lovingly over her most sensitive places. He was doing everything he was never allowed to do, and there was something so deliciously sacrilegious about making love to Crowley’s mother on the table of a dungeon. He had no idea what drove him to this point, this utter desperation to get release, but soon he was thumping into her, fast and dirty, as his hands still found her breasts and fondled them tenderly. Her smaller, daintier hands captured his wrists, then slowly moved up his arms, squeezing, fingernails digging in. Sam was full-on whimpering as he pushed in harder, deeper, watching the witch’s eyes roll back in her head, her body arch up as he slowly rutted against her G-spot.  
  
“Sammy…”  
  
He couldn’t even speak; couldn’t reply to something like this. He was so, so deep inside that petite form, he would surely hurt her, but she was rocking in motion with him, and encouraging his further entry. Sam eased in the last two inches, that he was fully sheathed in that incredibly tight, hot envelopment. His hair was flopping in his face as he pounded into her, just giving into her and fucking the utter daylights out of the beautiful witch. The table creaked with each loud, powerful thrust, every punch of his hips. His fingers dug into her sides, taking hold, and watching as she moved with him.  
  
Her bright curls and soft breasts jiggled with the punishing pace he set, a thin layer of sweat dawning upon their skin as they kept their moans quiet, personal, and kept eachother to themselves. Rowena suddenly cried out, raking her nails down his arms, and spearing herself onto his cock, when he hit something godlike.  
  
“Damnit! Samuel, finish this, or I’ll never forgive you!” she demanded.  
  
Something inside him broke, and his hips started to stutter, his thrusts jagged and uneasy. He threw his head back in a moan, as she tightened, quivering and trembling inside her own vice-like sheath. Rowena moaned, a strained, crying little thing, as she came again, and again, and Sam felt her cum surrounding his dick, dripping out onto his balls.  
  
 _“Rowena…”_ was all he had time to say, the tiny plea a mere afterthought as he bowed forward and groaned, his eyes shut and his vision whiting out as he poured himself into her, just letting it gush out and fill her up.  
  
Sam rocked forward, riding out his aftershocks, as Rowena whimpered and moaned softly, her fingers knotting in his hair, keeping him to her chest. The thick, spasming splush inside her filled up the witch, and then some. When he was done, Rowena wasn’t necessarily sure, so she was stroking his hair, trying to keep her eyes open, as he was still bottomed out inside her. His head was throbbing, and hers too, an angry ringing in their ears from the explosion that happened just seconds ago. His eyes squeezed shut, he only heard the sound of thick fluid leaking and dripping onto the concrete floor.  
  
“Shit, Rowena…” he panted against her soft white flesh, his cheek resting against her tender breast. “Dammit…”  
  
“God... you did good…” she assuaged, patting his shoulder dazedly, “Ohh, good, Samuel. So good, my boy.”  
  
And for a while, they laid there, slowly gathering themselves, and recovering from the orgasms. Sam felt as though he’d let out a huge breath he didn’t know he was holding. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he came that hard, but Rowena seemed glad that he’d saved it for her. Eventually, he had to pull out and give her a rest, gently easing out his ample, though softening attribute. He smirked to himself, rather pleased with the cum-filled pussy that he’d just wrought, his white stickiness dribbling from her small yet fucked-open entry. He searched around for a moment, and grabbed a rag from a nearby chair, then wiping himself off, and taking to Rowena next. Carefully and lovingly, he wiped away the leaking syrupy fluid, and helped her off the table with a sigh.  
  
“Well, then.” she said with that horribly salacious smile. “I do hope it was as good for _you,_ as it was for _me.”_  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” he murmured, tucking his oversensitive self back into his pants. He seemed to pause for a moment, as she was picking up her clothes. “But… was it, though? Good, I mean?”  
  
“Mmm… You’re hardly my size, but I’m pretty sure that only someone as big as you could hit that spot.” Rowena purred as she pulled on her undergarments, much to Sam’s flattery. “So, next time you need to… _utterly cum buckets,_ let me know. Otherwise, keep that horse cock to yourself.”  
  
Sam barely restrained a chuckle, as he helped her into her dress again. There wasn’t really a bigger compliment to be given, so Sammy hid his blush under the guise of seeing her naked form, and laced up the ribbons to her gown. He even fixed her hair, to make it seem a little less like he’d just ravished her on the table. In his opinion, this wasn’t his biggest mistake, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it would be worth it. Glancing at the clock on the wall, well… that was a mistake.  
  



End file.
